Bellum et amor
by Elfprinzess
Summary: Vampires and werewolves made their presence known to the humans. The humans eventually accepted them and they learnt to live together harmoniously... kind of. What happens when someone attempts to cause an all out war between species? SH/JW slash
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

**Hello there! This story is an attempt at an AU story of Sherlock. I have no idea how it will go, and whether I will be able to write Sherlock and John in character, or anyone else for that matter, but I will try. I already know John will be at least a little OC, as I am making him more intelligent then he is portrayed in some of the episodes. Please excuse the long author's note, I just want to let you all know everything before I start.**

**Summary: Vampires and werewolves made their presence known to the humans. The humans, after a long period of denial, accepted them and they learnt to live together harmoniously... kind of. Vampires hated werewolves. Werewolves hated vampires. Humans were stuck in the middle as mediators. But what is going to happen when one person attempts to shake things up, and tries to provoke an ASW; an All Species War?**

**So, I hope you enjoy the story, and please, read and review. Also, I apologise in advance for any mistakes made in the writing; grammatical, punctuation, spelling, etc. I also apologise if I use the wrong slang, I am not British, I am Australian, so while our slang is similar, I do not honestly know what is American, British and Australian, so I'm going to mix them all up, be completely wrong and have John going on about bogons and rednecks and pants. ;-) Just a heads up and an apology in advance, just in case it keeps you up at night, fretting over the fact the slang was mixed up.**

**This chapter is the Prologue, and explains the set-up of the world and how everything works. Stay tuned for the first chapter, and the start of the plot.**

**Disclaimer – I don't own anything you recognise. Nothing what-so-ever. I am an innocent teenage girl who is writing stories instead of studying for VCE and probably going to have to cram pretty damn hard every night because of the lack of study. **

**So, on with the story, enjoy, and please review, let me know your thoughts and what I can improve on and what-not. :-D**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

For all of history, there was one time, and one time only, where vampires and werewolves met peacefully. Well, relatively peacefully. Insults were tossed around, threats made, snarls and growls exchanged and amongst all of that, an agreement was reached. It was time for the world to be brought into the light. It was time for humans to be let into the 'know'. Time for the race that was the largest population on Earth (in numbers) to be told of the other species sharing their world.

The vampires went first. Caused mass panic; people barricaded themselves in their homes and the werewolves waited patiently, quietly. Three months later, the humans calmed down enough for a vampire spokesperson to explain to the world what was myth and what was real. Vampires drank blood, but they didn't kill or poison or turn the donors by just drinking. Sunlight burning them was a myth, as well as being able to turn into bats. Animal blood couldn't be used as a substitute food, it made them sick, but they had synthesised a fake blood that had all the nutrients and things vampires need to keep healthy.

As the panic settled, the werewolves stepped forward, announcing their presence, the fact you couldn't be turned into a wolf, that you had to be born one and that it was time for the three major species on planet Earth to learn to live together.

It did not go down well.

Countries forgot wars between themselves and joined together to fight the wolves and vampires. Rarely did a vampire or wolf die from human weapons, and they tried desperately to avoid killing humans so they could eventually live together, once the humans matured and grew up. Years passed. The vampires and the wolves were replaced by their young but didn't change, but the young humans who replaced the old ones were hip, radical and different. One by one, the countries dropped the war against the other species. Delegations met and hashed out agreements, treaties and laws. Vampires couldn't drink from humans. Werewolves couldn't hunt endangered species nor in anywhere but specific areas. They weren't to mix socially or physically or romantically between species. Inter-marriages and inter-relationships between species were illegal. Vampires and werewolves ignored each other, as to avoid conflict, as they were supposed to want to live peacefully all together. Humans gradually accepted the other species.

Fifteen years after the war stopped, one Nelly Dean held a campaign, claiming if a human wanted to let a vampire feed from them, they should be able to. If a vampire and human loved each other, they should be able to marry. If a human and werewolf loved each other, they should be able to marry. Hundreds of people; human, werewolf and vampire alike, supported her and the laws were modified. The human government added the legalisation of marriage between wolf and vampire to the bill, despite the reassurances from laughing wolves and vampires that that situation would never occur.

Generations later, it was the norm for the vampires to be lawyers and students, it was normal for wolves to be politicians and accountants, it normal for humans for be doctors and police officers. The three species lived peacefully, despite the feud between vampires and werewolves. If people chose to announce what species they were, they did, if they didn't no-one cared. It was common to come across half-breeds and full-breeds that didn't want to let people know their heritage, just as it was common to come across people who wanted to brag about their kick-arse awesome vampire dad or fully-sick werewolf mum.

The world lived together peacefully. There were still crimes and murders and robberies. The criminals were never isolated to one species. Each country had different political systems. England's government was made up of three councils; human, vampire and werewolf, that meet and govern the country under the Queen's name. Each species had specific courts and punishment system. The police departments were a mixture, but once the criminal was caught and their species determined, they were sent to the appropriate one and punished accordingly.

Blood banks were established at set locations, for vampires in dire need. Donors were paid large amounts to donate blood for vampires. Werewolves had specific meeting points for during the full moon and their compulsory transformations. There were paths mapped out in the cities specifically for the wolves to run on those nights, and any other night.

All was peaceful, as peaceful as a world with a population of 8 billion could be. There were conflicts, wars, disagreements, feuds, but it never reached a world war status, or what the people jokingly call, an ASW, an All Species War. The vampires put up with the wolves, the wolves put up with the vampires, the humans put up with their petty feuds.

All was good. All was fine.

Until Moriarty.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

**The start of this chapter is giving an in depth description of the different species living on Earth in this story. It may repeat a little from the prologue, but you know, whatever ;-)**

**Please read and review, I hope you enjoy the story and where it is going.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

_Werewolves_

Werewolves are part human, part wolf. They aren't one or the other. When they are in human form, they are themselves. When they are in wolf form, they are themselves. They are always aware of themselves, and their actions, no matter what form, no matter what time. Even during the full-moon. They never hunger for human flesh. Or any flesh for that matter. They enjoy eating their meat rawer than what was expected in society, but not so raw that it was dripping with blood, or even fresh off the bone.

They are born werewolves. They can't turn humans into wolves, nor do they go rabid as a wolf and attack whoever is nearby, infecting them. They are born into their pack, and at puberty go through their first change, a rather traumatic experience, as one does not yet know how to change back or even control themselves. On average, a teenager will remain in their wolf for the first time for around a week before figuring out how to turn back. Even then, it is a tricky thing to control until their hormones settle down and they are adults.

Despite the common misconception that werewolves are immortal, they age like any other human. And they heal faster than humans, especially in their wolf form. Wolves have to shift at the full moon, unless they go underground where they can't see or feel the moon and stay there until it sets.

They live in packs. Their pack members are their family, their own, _theirs_. They protected one another and lived for each other. If one was attacked, all responded, even the pups, although they weren't normally allowed to join in with the feuds. They were territorial, but that didn't mean they attacked any wolf that encroached on their territory. They marked it as theirs with their scents, and as long as other wolves respected that, and acted politely and kept their distance until invited to do otherwise, there were no issues.

That brings us to the scents. Wolves and vampires have a strong sense of smell. Wolves can smell a vampire from a mile away, their coppery, tangy smell like blood stood out like a sore thumb. Every person, regardless of species, has their own individual scents. The vampires were no different, but all had that underlying blood smell to them. Werewolves smelt the same as humans, to both werewolf and vampire alike. The only difference was that werewolves have their unique smells, and then an added smell to that, their pack scent. This smell has been described by vampires as a musky, wet dog smell, but each pack smells different. It is like the vampires, they all smell different, but they are recognizable as vampires either way. Same as werewolves, they all smell different, but as long has the wolf has a pack and a pack scent, they are identifiable as wolf.

A scent can lead a wolf back to their pack if need be, but when in wolf form, the wolves are connected mentally. Not like mind-reading 24/7, but they are able to direct their thoughts to each other and hear them as if they were talking out loud. That connection is an important thing to wolves, and many have been known to go crazy when cut off from their pack and this connection. It is more than just a mental connection, they can feel each other, sense each other and know that they aren't alone, and that while others depend on them, they can always fall back on the pack if need be, as wolf or human. The only cases of a wolf attacking someone else (anyone else) unprovoked are when they lost their pack members, and are cut off from feeling others, of being connected to others.

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><p><em>Vampires<em>

Vampires are humans who have been turned into a blood-sucking creature. They have their blood drained completely and then replaced with the blood of the vampire who drained them. Vampire blood has remarkable healing properties, and can become addictive like any drug, but extremely more potent. A few drops of vampire blood, over regular intakes can leave you with a life-long addiction and serious withdrawal symptoms.

Vampires aren't immortal, like they lead people to believe, but just live longer than an average human or wolf. Vampires can go in the sun, holy water doesn't burn them and stakes don't hurt them. Well, if you drove a stake into their chest it would probably kill them, but if you drive anything through their hearts it would kill them. One of the only ways to murder a vampire is to starve it for months upon months and then severely injure it, leaving it to die, or to stab it deep through the heart, but if it isn't deep enough they can recover from it and then get back up to seek revenge. They can't shift into bats or any animal, and they can't drink animal blood. It makes them sick.

Vampires can feed off anyone, but they only ever have one Mate. When a vampire finds their Mate, they become bonded, and will only feed off of that person, even if it means dying. They protect this Mate and while they have their coven (their blood-siblings and maker, and the maker's blood-siblings and maker), once they become bonded, their Mate is the only one who really matters; everyone else is second to them, including themselves. However, their mating rituals are never discussed. No-one except vampires and their Mates know how to become bonded. Only they know what is different between a one night-stand feed and a bonding ritual.

Blood banks set up around the cities, providing both synthesised and donated blood, provide a resource of food, but if one becomes desperate, a vampire need only to head to the nearest night club (the sultrier, the better) and find someone willing to be a donor. The act of feeding should be painful, when you consider it. Another person was going to be sinking two sharp, elongated fangs into your neck/wrist/arteries and sucking your blood out of your body. There should be pins and needles, a loss in feeling, pain, agony, etcetera, etcetera. Well, it isn't painful. When a vampire bites down, their fangs release pheromones and hormones that trigger lustful feelings and make the process an enjoyable experience. A lot of donors become hooked on the feeling, throwing themselves at the vampires for a chance to experience the addictive rush.

The vampire council are probably the most lenient. The only crimes that vampires really ever commit is the murder of a werewolf, but for every time a vampire kills a werewolf, a werewolf kills a vampire, so how can a council punish someone for doing something that they believe is right themselves? The most serious of punishments that vampires have ever experienced is starving for two years, not allowed to eat at all, and that was it. It is torture for the vampire, but it doesn't do much in the way of discouraging the crimes, they don't die from it, they aren't exiled, locked up, or anything. They're just hungry for a while, and even then, their hunger isn't important to them, they don't really need as much food as one would expect.

They hate the werewolves. For whatever reason, no-one really knows. Some believe a vampire attacked a wolf when he was first turned and half-crazy with bloodlust, others say a wolf attacked a vampire and the coven retaliated. All the people now-a-days know is that werewolves and vampires tolerated each other at best. They barely interacted and didn't enjoy one another's company. At least, not the normal vampires and werewolves.

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><p>John Watson limped through the park, walking past all the people, feeling alone and lost. Like the world was an ocean, and he was just a strand of seaweed, separated from the main clump and left to drift, all alone.<p>

'_Man up Watson, your thoughts are turning sappy.' _John mentally growled at himself, unable to help the depressing and some-what poetic thoughts.

"John? John Watson?"

John's mind registered the call was directed at him, and turned to see an overweight man, waving at him, approaching him from the bench he had been sitting at originally. John frowned slightly, trying to place the man in his memory.

"Mike Stamford, we went to Bart's together." Mike helped him out.

John blinked and had flash backs of college days, late night parties, frantic cramming sessions and stupid bar trivia, like the chemical compound of coffee and how many types of digestive enzymes there are in a human body compared to a werewolf. "Right, of course, Mike, how are you?" John asked, shifting his cane from his right hand to against his hip and offering his hand.

"I wouldn't expect you to recognise me, I put on a bit of weight. I'm good, how are you?" Mike shook the hand, "I heard you were off somewhere getting shot at, what happened?"

"I got shot." John gestured to his cane and forced a smile, which came out slightly bitter.

"Oh, sorry." Mike stuttered, realising the obviousness of it. "Listen, do you want to go get a coffee? Catch up?"

John made a split second decision, unaware that the outcome would change his life completely. He was tired, sick and tired of his life, of returning to his small room and having no one there, tired of the constant limp and ache in his shoulder, tired of the feeling of being invisible and unimportant, unwanted and tired of the fact that he was just going to go home (if that place could be called home) and stare between his empty blog and armed gun and contemplate things he really shouldn't be contemplating.

"Sure. Let's go."

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><p>Manners and being polite were major things in the Watson household. These things had been drilled into John's head from the start of his life, and were probably the only reason he didn't just leave once he had followed Mike into the lab and met the man interested in a flat-share. Manners kept him there as Mike introduced him as an old friend, manners made him hand over his phone, awe sparked his interest, and his brain.<p>

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"What?" John had asked, slightly stupidly when he thought about it.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Afghanistan," the answer slipped out of his lips without him thinking about it, before he realised that this stranger shouldn't know that. "I'm sorry, how did you know?"

"Obvious, I observed and made deductions." The dark-haired, pale-skinned man waved a hand dismissively. His pale complexion and dark hair gave him an ethereal appearance, and his sharp cheekbones, strong jaw and soft lips highlighted his attractiveness. His eyes were what caught John's attention, the few glimpses he saw of them. The man was darting about, looking at the phone, at John, at Mike at the telescope, at the time, everywhere, never stopping on one thing, but his eyes were an icy, storm grey-blue that appeared emotionless at first glance, but John knew that beneath the stormy clouds, there was a lifetime of emotion, of happiness, pain, suffering, hunger, regret. "I often don't talk for days on end. I play the violin when I'm thinking, no matter the hour and I have been told I have no sense of personal boundaries."

"I don't know your name and you already want me to move in with you?" John asked, lifting one eyebrow. "What's the address? The details?"

The man grabbed his coat and slipped it on, heading for the door. "You're an army doctor, recently returned from active duty, invalid. You have an alcoholic brother who just recently left his wife who you disapprove of because of his drinking, so you won't go to help. Your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic, quite right; I'm afraid and she thinks you have PTSD. The address is 221B Baker street. Meet me there tomorrow at 7, and we'll have a look." The man then left, pulling his own mobile out and texted someone, despite the fact he had just asked to borrow John's. He then popped his head back in, "And I'm Sherlock Holmes." Then he left again.

John stared after him.

"He's always like that. Worse, actually." Mike told him cheerfully.

"You don't say."

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><p>After heading for the flat, seeing the mess Sherlock had already made, and then following the man into a taxi to a crime scene, he decided to ask a few questions.<p>

"How did you know about the army? And everything else?" John asked, curious.

"I observed. The way you hold yourself screams military, but when you entered the room, you mentioned Bart's being different from when you were there, so army doctor. You use your cane in your right shoulder, despite your limp being on the right, so injured on your left shoulder. Your cane, you lean on it heavily when you walk, but when you stand still and talk to people, you stand straight, don't ask to sit down and don't lean on your cane, meaning it is psychosomatic. The therapist, well, you have a psychosomatic limp. That was easy. Your brother, that was harder, but of course, you already know how I knew about him."

"The phone." John nodded, fingering the engraving as Sherlock held a hand out for it. He handed it over without thinking about it.

"Just returned home from the war, unable to pay for a flat by yourself, so this wouldn't have originally been yours, a gift from a family member. Not your father, it's a young man's gadget, and I suppose it could be from a cousin, but unlikely, as if you had extended family you were this close to you wouldn't be looking for a flatmate. I knew about you looking for a flatmate because I had mentioned to Mike I was looking and hours later he turns up with an old friend, clearly back from overseas and obviously in need of a place to stay. Back to the phone, it is most likely from your brother, Harry. Engraving says it's a present. Not a girlfriend, too expensive and practical, so wife. He wouldn't be giving it away if they were still in a marriage and if she had left him, he would've kept it, sentimentality and all that, so he left her. The model is recent, so it happened recently, within the last few months."

"And the drinking?"

"That, a shot in the dark, was possible but there was no sound evidence to support it. No evidence to discourage it either though. The phone, the scuff marks on the bottom here? Something you will see on a drunk's phone and never a sober man's phone. His hands were shaking every night as he plugged it in to charge." Sherlock handed the phone back.

"That's amazing." John spoke in awe. There was no other word for it.

The man coloured slightly, "Really?"

"Yeah."

"That's not what people usually say." Sherlock muttered, still slightly red.

"What do they usually say?"

"Piss off."

John let out a laugh at that, and Sherlock joined in with a chuckle.

It was later, at the crime scene when they were getting out of the car that John saw fit to correct Sherlock.

"Sherlock, about your observations of me," John started.

"Yes, yes, did I get everything right?"

"Nearly. I was an army doctor and was shot. The phone is from Harry. Harry left Clara three months ago and gave me the phone to avoid memories and for me to keep in touch."

"But?"

"Harry is short for Harriett. She's my sister." John cherished the look of surprise that flashed for a millisecond across Sherlock's face and grinned at the sight.

"There's always something. Sister, I should've seen that." He muttered.

"Don't worry, it's still bloody fantastic."

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><p>John had been kidnapped by a crazy man with a fetish for umbrellas, threatened, bribed and ignored, sent a text to a serial killer and was now sitting at a table, having dinner with one Sherlock Holmes. And having a rather awkward conversation with the man.<p>

"Look John, while your attention is flattering,"

"No, I don't mean it like that. I just mean that if you did happen to swing that way, I'd have no issue with it." John interrupted forcibly.

"Good, because I consider myself married to my work and otherwise asexual." Sherlock announced.

"That's fine. It's all fine." John shrugged.

And with that, they were off after the man in the cab, running over half of London after this serial killer.

It was only when they'd collapsed just inside 221B Baker street and just as Angelo had returned John's cane did he realise something. Actually, two things.

One: he wanted to move in with Sherlock. Actually wanted to share the flat with the man and solve crimes with him, feel this rush all the time and actually have a purpose again.

And two: Sherlock Holmes being a vampire didn't bother him at all. And it really should've. But it didn't.

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><p><strong>TB<strong>**C**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you soo much to SimplisticReality, Cooper101 and Ulura for reviewing! I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well.**

**Please read and review, enjoy **

**Chapter 2**

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><p>"You ok?" Were his first words to the consulting detective.<p>

"Fine. Where's the gun? I don't believe you'd go to jail over this but I would prefer to avoid the court case." Sherlock responded, keeping his voice low so not to carry.

"Gone, I threw it into the Thames." John didn't question how Sherlock knew it was John who shot the cabbie.

"Thank you for that." Sherlock murmured, somewhat awkwardly.

"No problem." John shrugged. And it wasn't. He supposed he should've been bothered by the fact he just killed a man but all he felt was pure relief and joy that Sherlock was fine. His mind was singing and the loneliness and emptiness were retreating. Even if it was only temporary, John was so relieved with the break, he really didn't care. John followed the detective away from the crime scene and across the road.

"Sherlock."

The pair spun, and John felt like growling at the man who had kidnapped him earlier. His umbrella was present, and the man was leaning on it, trying to appear cool and calm.

"Mycroft, piss off." Sherlock sneered.

"You missed Mummy's dinner."

"I told her I wasn't going."

John stared between the two, shocked the pair of men were brothers, and were announcing themselves as arch-enemies.

"I suppose Dr Watson will be sticking around then?"

"None of your business." Sherlock snapped, before turning to leave.

"Defensive already? Be careful with how attached you become." The man commented, barely blinking at the way Sherlock stood slightly in front of John.

"Leave us alone Mycroft."

"I am merely looking out for you Sherlock."

"Leave us alone."

Sherlock glared until his brother climbed back into his car and drove off.

"So, brother?" John commented casually.

"Older brother, unfortunately."

"I understand, I have an older sister."

The pair shared a look and burst into laughter.

"Come on, I know a good Chinese take-out place." Sherlock stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked off. "I can always predict the fortune cookies."

"No you can't."

"Shut up."

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><p>Hours later, they were sitting at home, take-out boxes on the table in front of them between the TV and the couch.<p>

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"I assume you wish to stay and share the flat with me?"

"Yep."

"I suppose I need to tell you something then, about me."

John turned the TV off and turned to look at Sherlock with a serious expression. "If you are about to tell me you're a serial killer, or crazy, psycho murderer, or have some weird fetish about something I don't want to know, stop, because I actually want to share the flat with you, if you tell me something like that I wouldn't be able to tell the police later that I had no idea and not be lying."

"Nothing like that. I'm a vampire."

"Oh that, I figured that out from the start nearly." John shrugged, before turning the TV back on.

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Nope, although, I would prefer you didn't drink from me, if you don't mind, and if you have someone here you are feeding off, give me some warning beforehand so I don't walk in on it." John remained focused on the TV, drawn into the movie.

Sherlock was silent for the remainder of the night. After the movie, and John was heading to bed, Sherlock still hadn't said a word.

"Sherlock, you being a vampire honestly doesn't bother me. It's all fine." John told him.

"Thank you." He responded, as John was leaving the room.

"No problem." John called back, heading to his room.

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><p>And with that, the pair settled into a pattern. John nagged for Sherlock to clean up, to get milk, bread and tea when they were out and he was bored, to stop playing his violin at 3 in the morning, to stop shooting holes in the wall and to stop going through his laptop but there was no conviction behind it. John actually enjoyed his eccentric flatmate's behaviour, and while nagging the man to do these things, John ended up doing them for Sherlock.<p>

John ignored the body parts in the fridge, Sherlock attempted to act human towards the man, which was an absolute failure. Sherlock solved his crimes, John tagged along, felt useless until the one comment he made sparked an idea in the genius and led him to the answer, at which point, Sherlock would turn to John and grin at him like a child grinning at a candy shop. They'd solve the crimes and upon return to their flat, John would blog about it, before settling into the armchair next to Sherlock who would be on the couch and watch mindless television. An hour into a show, Sherlock would crash and John would leave the vampire asleep on the couch, to go crash in his room upstairs.

Within a year, the pair were friends, best mates, and they were soon inseparable. The police at Scotland Yard called John when they needed Sherlock's help, because they knew the consulting detective wouldn't answer, and John would. It was no longer Sherlock-alone, but Sherlock-and-John, and everyone just assumed they were a couple upon meeting the pair of men, even the women John was dating at the time. Those women soon dumped him after meeting Sherlock and witnessing their friendship.

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><p>Together they solved the Blind Baker case. John had met Sebastian, an old school friend, and wanted to growl at him, but refrained from doing so. He had been so relieved when Sherlock had turned up in time, allowing him to save Sarah and eventually the detective himself.<p>

They solved the different games together, dancing along as the man, Moriarty, tugged their strings, tugged Sherlock's strings and got him, them to dance to his tune. They ended up in a stalemate at a pool, Snipers focused on them, Sherlock's hand and gun focused on the bomb, Moriarty grinning at them crazily and then John just watching, ready to lunge at Sherlock to protect him, to save him, but in the end the tension let the room with Moriarty as the man growled down the phone to whoever was unfortunate enough to have to tell the crazy man the bad news.

They worked together, and then John blogged about the cases, leaving out the parts where Sherlock collapsed for three days, unconscious and woke up in the hospital, freaked out and told John to never take him there again. John promised, as long as Sherlock promised to sleep more regularly and eat so he didn't collapse again. He left out the moments where the pair would just sit and drink a cup of tea and take in the utter domestic feeling of doing nothing but watching telly as eleven in the morning in your pyjamas on a lazy day. He left out the moments where Sherlock showed his feelings and actually showed he was capable of feeling and experiencing normal feelings. He blogged about the brilliant deductions and the funny moments, talking about certain moments where Sherlock made a mistake so the vampire didn't notice he was leaving out the private moments and call him an idiot for being emotional and sentimental.

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><p>The case started like any other case. Lestrade called them in, Sherlock waltzed into the park, looked around at the dead bodies carelessly thrown around the bench and path and declared it a hate-murder. Vampires had ambushed the wolves and killed them while they were transforming under the moonlight, when a wolf was most vulnerable.<p>

"What the hell do you mean?" Sally demanded.

"Wolves take a few minutes to shift, during that phase majority of their energy and focus is on their bodies, transforming, not on their surroundings. This means they are open to attack and are vulnerable, especially if a whole group is transforming at one time." Sherlock explained to the woman who pulled a face at the knowledge the vampire displayed but otherwise accepted the answer.

"So vampires did this?" Lestrade asked.

Before Sherlock could answer, John spoke up, "I don't think so, Sherlock."

"What?" Lestrade asked, surprised the army doctor would be disagreeing with _the_ consulting detective. What surprised the Detective Inspector more was the fact that Sherlock didn't insult John about being an idiot and suggesting he was wrong and he didn't go on about how he was intellectually more advanced and John had to be wrong.

"Why's that?" Sherlock asked, moving to John's side.

John crouched at a body of one of the men who was half transformed into a wolf, fur in patches over his body, and claws sprouting from his hands. "Vampires and werewolves hate each other; I am assuming that means a vampire would never feed from a wolf, right? I mean, every vampire I've met has always gone on about how a werewolf stinks."

"That's right." Sherlock nodded.

"So why would whoever attacked these wolves have bitten them? Wouldn't they have killed them and then moved on?"

Everyone was silent as they realised the doctor was right.

"That means whoever killed these wolves wanted us to believe it to be vampires, and most likely want to spark a feud between werewolves and vampires." Lestrade pointed out.

Sherlock studied the crime scene again, moving between bodies and examined them.

"So who killed them? Vampires, werewolves or humans?" Sally asked out loud.

Sherlock didn't answer.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**I am so sorry for the delay, I meant to update regularly, but I got sucked into the mad chasm that is year 11/12 and could not find the time to study for every test/SAC/assignment/exam let alone my stories on top of that. I am going to try and update at least once a week, maybe two weeks (max) on each of my stories until they are all finished, and not start any new ones...which probably won't work out, but I promise I will finish this story before anything else. There is this chapter, and then at least one more, maybe two more, so it isn't a long story, so for that, I am sorry, but when I get more time, I may write a sequel of sorts or something, just not at the moment, and not before my other stories are finished.**

**Please, read and review, and thank you to all those who have, I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Chapter 3**

**XXX**

Sherlock stayed awake for days upon days, having power naps here and there, eating only when forced to by John, drinking only when forced to by John and doing nothing but breathing and trying to solve the case.

More wolves were found dead, and they soon found vampires dead too, apparently killed by wolves. Whether it was the same person, staging the deaths as by wolves, or actual wolves taking revenge, the police didn't know, but it seemed like a war was being built up by someone, and that someone was untraceable, undetectable. Even for Sherlock.

When John came home from getting the groceries and found Sherlock glaring at his brother, he knew his day was going to get bad. When he found out Sherlock had called the older Holmes to the flat, he knew it was going to be worse. And when he found out that Mycroft had only one piece of information, that was it, he knew it was going to get horrible.

"We only know the original deaths were organised by Moriarty. The most recent ones are retaliation by the other species. A war is building, and Moriarty is the conductor."

Sherlock kicked Mycroft out after that, and didn't give John a second glance, delving back into the case, sorting through documents, reports, emails and texts from his network, his informants.

**XXX**

Sherlock dragged John out of bed at three in the morning, pulling the doctor out the door and into a cab before explaining.

"Moriarty's staging a crime now. I texted Lestrade."

They got out of the cab and walked into the scene, right as a tall, huge, well-built, blonde giant was in the middle of stabbing a vampire. Upon seeing Sherlock and John, the man raced away, moving abnormally fast for a human, but not a vampire. Sherlock took off after him, but John knew he had no hope of keeping up, so he called an ambulance for the victim, and tried to save the man from blood loss. He was bent over the man, holding his coat against the wound, when his vision turned black and John collapsed.

Meanwhile, Sherlock, having lost the man, cursed under his breath and headed back to the crime scene, aware John hadn't followed. He arrived on the scene to find Lestrade there, loading up the dead body.

"Where's John?" Sherlock demanded.

"Isn't he with you?" Lestrade asked, "No-one was here when we turned up, I assumed the pair of you had gone off somewhere, investigating like you normally do."

"There's a note here!" Sally called.

Sherlock yanked it off her, and read it, before letting out a hiss and storming off.

Lestrade stared after the man in confusion, as Sally picked the note back up and read it out loud.

'_And as the Little Red Doctor skipped along the path, completely oblivious to the world, the Big Bad Wolf watched over him, following his path until the Little Red Doctor reached an intersection. At this intersection of paths, the Big Bad Wolf stooped in and took the Little Red Doctor. The Little Red Doctor was never seen again, and while his Flat-mate searched and searched and searched, he never found him. Days later, the Little Red Doctor was found, dead, and while the Flat-mate cried over his mate's body, the Big Bad Wolf came down and gobbled the Flat-mate up as well.'_

**XXX**

"Mycroft." Sherlock announced, bursting into his office, flinging the door open to hit the wall.

"We're already trying to trace Dr Watson down, you need to calm down and get a hold of yourself." Mycroft didn't look up from the computer.

Sherlock gave his older brother one look, and collapsed into the chair across from the older vampire. "I need him Mycroft. Find him." Sherlock pleaded.

Mycroft paused in his work and studied his brother. "Sherlock, is he?"

"Yes. I haven't told him yet though."

"Very well, come on, we shall go see how the search is going."

"Thank you," Sherlock got up and followed his brother outside and to where he had minions running around.

**XXX**

"Report."

"There's no new news on either Moriarty or Dr Watson."

"No news, sir."

"Nothing."

"Nothing here, sir."

"No trace of them."

"How can you have all these slaves running around for you and all of them have nothing?" Sherlock hissed at his brother. His brother didn't answer. "Of course they won't find anything, it's Moriarty, he doesn't want police or government to find him; he wants me to find him. Think, Sherlock, where could he be?" Sherlock began pacing.

"Sherlock, even if we find them, we will not be able to go after him." Mycroft sighed.

"Like hell I can't."

"Sherlock," Mycroft warned.

Sherlock didn't listen, just stormed out the door to do his own snooping and researching.

**XXX**

Blurred images were all he could see. He blinked a few times, flashes of vivid colour passed his vision until the blurriness was all but gone and he was able to see. He stared passively as Moriarty grinned in front of him, and the giant from the crime scene stood in the background. He ignored the pounding in the back of his head that told him he had a head injury and 'missed' the symptoms that pointed towards a concussion.

"Hello Johnny-boy."

"Hello Jimmy." John slurred, his mouth not quite under his control properly yet. His hands were bound behind his back and his feet tied to the chair he was sitting in. He belatedly realised that was what was keeping him upright as the room spun.

"Do stay awake John, you have a concussion, I don't want you damaged before Sherlock finds you." Moriarty tapped John's cheek, causing a flare of pain to shoot through his head, jerking the man awake.

John took a deep breath in to steady his spinning mind and gasped, staring at the man in shock. Moriarty and the other man ignored him. "Keep him awake and make sure he doesn't die. Don't hurt him yet either. That's later." Moriarty ordered, before stalking out of the room.

The blonde man grinned at John, his fangs glinting in the light. John groaned in pain and tilted his head back, resting it on the back of the wooden chair.

'_Fantastic.'_

**XXX**

"Sherlock, we've found him." Mycroft opened the door of the car. He was picking Sherlock up from outside 221B Baker street.

Sherlock leaned in and asked, "Where? I'll run, it'll be faster."

"An abandoned warehouse off Littleton road. I'll be there with the Vampire council as soon as possible."

Sherlock disappeared, as Mycroft pulled his phone out. As his driver drove off in the same direction Sherlock went, Mycroft called Greg Lestrade. "Detective Lestrade, bring the human council force to the address I've texted you. Moriarty is there with John Watson."

"We'll be there in 15 minutes."

**XXX**

"Sherlock my dear, you are so predictable, in a good way. Just imagine if you didn't turn up when I thought you would? That'd ruin everything." Moriarty grinned as Sherlock appeared in the empty warehouse. John was sat in the middle of the huge storage space, with the blonde giant (Moran) and Moriarty either side of him.

"Let John go." Sherlock ordered.

"Now, now, all in good time. We're still waiting on some guests you see, your brother and his army, the good Detective-Inspector and his army, you know how people get when they're left out." Moriarty smirked and checked his watch. "They should be here round about now."

Mycroft and the vampire council force entered the room. If they were surprised by the lack of resistance, they didn't show it, just spread out in a half circle around the warehouse and stopped at Mycroft's signal. Humans entered in the back door, circling the other half and pausing as Lestrade signalled them to.

"There we go, now that we're all here, I'm going to have a little bit of fun with Johnny-boy. And well, you are all going to stand there and watch, because I'm not under your jurisdiction." Moriarty laughed. Mycroft held out his hand to the giant who placed a knife in his hand. Moriarty then preceded to cut off John's jacket and shirt, before straddling the man, running the knife along his chest gently, circling the scar on his shoulder.

Sherlock glanced to Mycroft who shook his head briefly. "Whose jurisdiction are you under?" Sherlock asked.

"Please, isn't it obvious? Which council isn't here?" Moriarty scoffed, not looking away from John.

"You're a werewolf." John spoke before Sherlock.

"Good job Johnny-boy, I'm proud, when did you figure that out?" Moriarty asked, pressing a little harder so the knife scratched him lightly.

"When I woke up, you smell like your pack still. After all, you only killed them all two weeks ago." John explained.

Moriarty paused and tilted his head curiously, "How could you possibly know that?"

"You still reek of blood." John continued in a normal, passive voice, but his body was tense with anger.

Moriarty stood abruptly. He handed the knife to the blonde and motioned to John. The giant stepped forward, but John's words caused Moriarty to pause and consequently, his man to pause. "You're not under the jurisdiction of the vampires or humans, but that doesn't mean there isn't anyone here who can stop you."

"Only a wolf from the council, a pack member of the council or –" Moriarty began to explain with a sigh.

"A wolf who served in the army can pass judgement and act accordingly if in the heat of the moment there is no time to wait for the council to arrive." John finished.

Moriarty stared at John who stared back. Neither looked away or blinked. "Seb, kill him. Now." Moriarty ordered.

"Too late." John smirked, before wrenching his hands apart, ripping the rope binding him. He lunged forward at Moriarty, a growling noise emitting from his throat as his body rippled and shifted. John lunged from the chair, but a blonde wolf landed on Moriarty, who had also shifted.

Sherlock stared in shock at his flatmate who was now a blonde wolf fighting with a dark brown wolf but quickly came to his senses as the blonde giant, Seb, took a step forward, fangs out, ready to attack. Sherlock threw himself into the fight, just as more of Moriarty's men appeared. The other vampires and humans were suddenly engaged in fights left, right and centre as two vampires and two wolves fought in the middle of the fray.

Sherlock dodged Seb's lunge back and fought desperately, breaking an arm only to have the man heal it. He stabbed Sherlock in the side with his knife, wrenching it upwards until it was stuck in a rib. Sherlock ripped it out and threw it to the side as his side healed. Sherlock darted forward, ducking under the man's punch and dug his fangs into the man's neck, ripping it off in one deft movement. He spat out the blood still in his mouth and spun to face Moriarty, just as the brown wolf jumped on the blonde wolf, Moriarty's strong jaws sinking into John's neck.

Sherlock was slamming into Moriarty's side in seconds, ripping the wolf off of John and off to the side. The brown wolf recovered quickly, and his body rippled until Moriarty stood, completely naked, human again.

"Congratulations Sherlock, you killed my right-hand man and have your John back. Now what are you going to do?" Moriarty sneered. His chest was littered with deep scratches that were slowly healing over and a deep bit mark in his side that was sluggishly leaking blood.

"I'm going to kill you." Sherlock hissed, eyes bright and feral.

"Really?" Moriarty laughed, "You would be so bored without me Sherlock. No, you won't kill me, we have had too much fun together."

Sherlock stared at the psychopath for a moment, before looking down at the blonde wolf who was laying on the floor, blood leaking from a number of wounds, staining his blonde fur red.

"See, you can't do it, nor can you admit me to be right." Moriarty boasted, not noticing his injuries or lack of clothing at all.

Sherlock didn't look up from John as the wolf let out a whimper of pain and lifted his head weakly to stare at Sherlock. Sherlock turned back to Moriarty and grinned at him, "You know how you said you love me being predictable, well I don't." With that, Sherlock was in front of Moriarty in seconds, hands wrapped around his neck and snapping the bones quickly and efficiently. The man dropped to the ground dead, a shocked expression on his face.

Sherlock didn't wait for the body to hit the ground, he was back at John's side, kneeling at the wolf. "John?" Sherlock asked, resting a hand on the wolf's neck, feeling for a pulse as well as trying to staunch the bleeding.

The wolf whimpered, and rippled. The fur shrank back into skin and his limbs retracted. His tail disappeared and his body shortened again. What was left was John, lying on the floor, covered in blood and barely awake.

"Moriarty?" John asked, trying to look around.

"Dead." Sherlock told him with a satisfied grin.

"Guess I'll have to find some way to keep you occupied now." John murmured, settling back on the floor, eyes slipping shut.

"Let me study you in wolf form for a week and I won't complain about being bored for a month." Sherlock suggested, trying to sound normal. His voice didn't quite make it, his pitch was too high to be level and calm.

John heard it too and opened his eyes again. He reached up and stroked Sherlock's cheek. "I din't 'now you could cry." John slurred.

"John, stay awake, please?" Sherlock whispered.

"M'ok, for you." John's eyes fluttered, but remained open, as an ambulance suddenly turned up. Sherlock looked around and realised everyone had stopped fighting, and the werewolf council had turned up. Moriarty's men were subdued, and a glance at Mycroft revealed the building was secure and safe.

The ambulance workers quickly bound John's injuries and lifted him into the van. Sherlock climbed in with him.

"I'll sort out everything Sherlock and come to the hospital when I am done here." Mycroft spoke. Sherlock didn't show he heard, but Mycroft knew he did.

"Burn Moriarty's body," Sherlock called out, before the doors shut, "After making sure, double-checking and then triple-checking it is him."

"It's him," John murmured to Sherlock as the ambulance doors shut, "Smells like him, smells like dead rabbits that have been covered up with another scent badly." John forced out tiredly.

"Stay awake John, I won't complain about being bored ever again." Sherlock promised.

John grinned weakly, "You can complain all you want Sherlock, I don't think I can stay awa...ke..." John trailed off, eyes slipping shut and the heart monitor that the emergency workers had attached to John flatlined.

"He's going."

"Clear, charge."

A thud. A jump in the continuous beep. Then it continued.

"Clear, charge."

Thud. Pause. Beep.

"Clear, charge."

Thud. Pause. Beep.

"Clear, charge."

Thud. Pause.

**TBC**

**Please review, the next chapter will be up soon, promise. I won't leave it as a cliff hanger for years, I promise.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here is the final chapter, I hope you enjoy it, and please review! Let me know your thoughts.**

**I just want to say a BIG, GIGANTIC, HUGE thank you to all who reviewed :-) So thank you!**

**Chapter 4**

"Sherlock. It was definitely Moriarty, I ran the test five times and triple checked it myself and with a werewolf who knew him but is trustworthy. He's dead, body burnt to ashes and then the ashes were dumped in the wind and ocean." Mycroft told his younger brother.

No response.

XXX

"It's been three weeks Sherlock, have a nap, take a shower and eat something, please?" Mrs Hudson pleaded, "I'll stay here with him while you do so if that would make you better?"

No response.

XXX

"Sherlock, I could really use your help with this case?" Lestrade tried, but knew it wouldn't work. "Sherlock, you have to consider the option that he won't wake up, it's been a month, and he's been in a coma this whole time, only still alive because he's on life support." Lestrade sighed, trying to get the vampire to see reason.

No response.

XXX

A woman walked into the hospital room. "You must be Sherlock Holmes," She spoke. "I'm Alexia Harps. I went through my army training with John, but wasn't stationed with him."

Sherlock didn't look away from John's face, pale and lifeless. There was a tube down his throat, breathing for him, an IV feeding him and a pipe to drain his body of his fluids. Everything was regulated by machines and tubes and even his heart beat was regulated with the machines, in time with the ventilator.

"I understand everyone has wanted you to give up, but don't." Alexia continued.

Sherlock blinked, and glanced at the woman, his first movement in weeks before turning back to John. Her plain blonde hair in a bun told him she worked hard, but her high heeled shoes told her in an office. The ink on her hand said paperwork, with pens and ink, not necessarily on computer so it was probably as a scribe or something for someone. Her clothes were neat but nothing fancy, and her posture screamed military.

"When we were in training, he was in a fight with a pack. He came to the army as a lone wolf, without a pack scent and unidentifiable as a wolf unless you knew it and looked for it. There was pack in the older levels, and they felt like he was encroaching on their territory so they attacked him. He was in a coma for three months, and the doctors gave up on him, pulled the plug and everything. The moment all the tubes and pipes were out of him, his body shifted into his wolf form and his injuries healed over. A month later he woke up, still as a wolf, but completely healed." She paused, "I'm not saying that will happen again, and that you should turn the machines off and expect him to keep on breathing, I don't know his full condition and don't have enough medical knowledge to completely understand, but I do know that if you could convince him to shift into his wolf, he'll heal up and recover, and that even if you don't, he will do so himself eventually, if he survives that long. We stayed in contact, through letters, and I know he struggled to go through losing his pack, creating a new one and then losing that one as well, but I also know that he has seen you as his pack for a while now, and that if anyone has a chance of getting him to wake up, it's you." She placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder briefly. "I won't intrude on you with him, but if you could call or text to let me know if something changes?"

"Would you," Sherlock began. He coughed to clear his throat as his voice turned out rough and hoarse from disuse. "Would you like to sit with him? I have some things to take care of and don't want to leave him alone."

"Of course I'll look after him. Go shower and eat, you look like shit." Alexia informed the man cheerfully.

Sherlock gave her a look as he slowly stood, "I'm a vampire by the way, I wouldn't insult me." Sherlock sniffed disdainfully.

"Listen mate, I've been to war and back. You being a vampire don't scare me at all, not even a little bit."

Sherlock left the room, as Alexia sat down in his chair.

"Captain John Watson, you better wake up right now, that man is hot and is pining for you, if you don't claim him as yours, I will so you better hurry up." Alexia told the comatose man.

XXX

A week later, his body rippled, and Sherlock moved fast enough to pull the pipe, IV and other tubes out in time for the man to shift into a wolf without anything choking, strangling or hurting himself on them. The flat, continuous beep brought doctors rushing, but when they saw the man-turned-wolf, they relaxed and calmly reattached the heart monitor.

"He should heal up fairly soon. Then we'll just have to wait and see how long he takes to wake up." The nurses told his visitors, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade. Sherlock was just accepted as part of the furniture almost, as he never responded and the nurses learnt to leave him alone, and just accept he was staying there.

XXX

It only took three days until John woke up. The doctors had caught signs beforehand and had informed them it would be within the next few days. When John's eyes fluttered open, and the wolf lifted his head to look around blearily, Sherlock knew he was to send him back to sleep, but naturally this time. John spotted Sherlock in the chair and lowered his head back down. He made a whining noise in the back of his throat.

"You're in hospital, Moriarty is dead and everyone is safe and healthy. You've been in a coma for a month and a half." Sherlock explained. "Go to sleep John, I'm not going anywhere and you're still healing."

The wolf settled back down onto the bed, and his eyes slid shut again. His breathing levelled out and he fell back asleep.

Sherlock pushed the call button for a nurse, and pulled his phone out. He began texting Lestrade to tell him to spread the news, while a nurse turned up and asked what was wrong.

"He woke up. Now he is asleep."

XXX

John woke up several times, not able to stay awake for more than a few minutes each time. After a few days, he gradually improved, staying awake for an hour to two at a time. He stayed in his wolf form, despite his obvious attempts at returning to human form.

It was two weeks after he woke up, and Sherlock was sitting on the bed, having shoved John over, and was going through some case files. John was awake, and watching, occasionally nudging a file with his nose to bring Sherlock's attention to it.

John's body shivered, and then shrunk. In moments, human John was lying on the bed, blankets covering his waist and below.

"John." Sherlock grinned.

"Sherlock." John beamed back. "When can I go home?"

"Soon, Mycroft is pulling some strings."

XXX

The pair were home within a week, John completely healed thanks to his rapidly healing body.

"So," Sherlock began, entering the flat and sitting on the couch.

"So what?" John asked, moving into the kitchen to make tea.

"Why didn't you tell me you were a werewolf?"

John was silent as he made the tea, but when he came back into the loungeroom and handed Sherlock a cup, he sat down in the armchair and leaned forward onto his knees. "I didn't want you to know. I didn't want to tell you, and have you know that I am a lone wolf, and to ask me all sorts of questions I wasn't ready to answer. Then I moved in with you, and it got to the point where I didn't want to lose our friendship due to stupid feuds and pointless hate between our species, and I couldn't find the courage to tell you. So I waited until the perfect moment, which I kept telling myself never happened. But I wasn't going to stand by and let Moriarty start a war, not when I was the only one there with the authority to stop him." John shrugged, then settled back in his chair. "Did the werewolf council ever come around about all that?"

"Mycroft sorted it out."

The pair fell into a silence, slightly awkward on John's part, as he was waiting for Sherlock to announce his opinion on his flatmate being a werewolf.

"Do you know much about vampires?" Sherlock asked.

"A fair bit, what everyone else knows and then some. Mainly medical things though."

"What about our mating system, for lack of a better word?"

"You only ever have one Mate, and that's it, for your whole life. That's about it really, that and you get overprotective about them."

"You're my Mate."

John froze. "Seriously? The different species thing doesn't make a difference?"

"Not to me. To other vampires, maybe, but when have I ever been normal?"

"Never, that's why I stick around."

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you please either accept or decline my declaration, the suspense is quite dramatic and all that, but I assure you, not necessary."

"You're an idiot Sherlock. What do you think I'm about to say?"

Sherlock was silent as he studied John for a moment. "Oh."

"Exactly."

XXX

The next morning, Mycroft entered their flat to find the pair sitting at the table, eating breakfast. Well, John was eating breakfast, Sherlock was curled up on the seat, eyes half shut, watching John lazily.

"Good morning brother, John." Mycroft greeted them.

"Morning Mycroft," John waved, before returning to his breakfast, scoffing down the bacon and eggs like he hadn't eaten in weeks. Or like he had been fed off of by a vampire.

Mycroft noticed the two bite marks on John's neck, and Sherlock's content, satisfied expression and put two and two together to get four. "Congratulations are in order, I see."

"Piss off Mycroft," Sherlock sighed.

"Sherlock. Thank you Mycroft, was there a reason you came by today?"

"Just to check up on you both, I'll leave you two alone now."

"Thank you for caring, goodbye." Sherlock announced, sarcasm laced throughout his words.

"Oh, and John?" Mycroft asked, about to step out the door.

"Yes?"

"Mummy wants to meet you tomorrow. Says she can't wait to meet her baby boy's Mate."

Sherlock slammed the door on his face and turned to John who had stopped eating and had frozen in fear. "My mother and coven won't hurt you, John, they wouldn't dare." Sherlock told him.

"I figured that, but, I have to meet your mother. What if she doesn't like me?"

"That's what is worrying you? Not that you, a werewolf, are going into a house full of vampires, your sworn enemy, without any backup or anything?"

"I have you, and I know you wouldn't let me go if I would be in danger that we couldn't handle."

Sherlock stared at John for a moment, "My dear Watson, never stop surprising me."

"OK?" John asked, a little confused.

"Finish your breakfast, we'll head over to the Yard and see if they have a case, maybe we can get out of visiting the coven."

"But I want to meet your family!"

"No, you don't."

"Yeah, I do."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No you don't, I know everything John, I know you don't want to."

"What's the sixth planet from the sun?"

Silence.

"I know everything of importance."

"Right."

**The End.**


End file.
